


Beach City Gothic

by atamascolily



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Psychological Horror, regional gothic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28825647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atamascolily/pseuds/atamascolily
Summary: Any campaign to keep Beach City weird is futile. Beach City has always been weird. Beach City will always be weird. Beach City is eternally weird.
Kudos: 6





	Beach City Gothic

**Author's Note:**

> Because Beach City really _is_ weird, and the same events can be horror or comedy depending on your perspective.

  * There is a mountain in defiance of the usual geological profile of the area. When asked why it isn't flat and sandy like the rest of Delmarva, leading scientists shrug and say, "I dunno, Beach City is weird like that" before gibbering and foaming at the mouth.
  * There is a lighthouse on top of the mountain. It pulses. It flickers. Who is it calling to? You don't want to know. When you venture inside, you are greeted by a chorus of whispers begging, imploring, pleading for release from the pain of this plane of existence. Sometimes that's just Ronaldo Fryman (who appears to be living in the upper level) but other times you spy something out of the corner of your eye that looks nothing like Ronaldo... and is that a giant mouth on the wall with the name 'LARS' carved into it?
  * A many-armed statue of a giant woman is carved in the rock face beneath the lighthouse, facing the sea. The townfolk murmur that someday she will wake, and her wrath will destroy the world. "Pray she never wakes," they tell you, over and over again.
  * A house lies nestled in the statue's lap. There is a mailbox on the beach but no sign of that anyone lives there. You dare yourself to ring the doorbell, but can't work up the nerve, especially when you discover there is no doorbell. When you peer through the windows, you see strange lights flickering in the shadows and beat a hasty retreat.
  * The surly teenager behind the counter at the Big Doughnut refuses to make eye contact when you walk in through the door. "I'd like a Cookie Cat Ice Cream Sandwich," you say. "Sure, one Lion Licker coming up!" You blink. All the Cookie Cat sandwiches in the freezer case are gone, replaced by the inferior Lion Licker brand. You will never eat Cookie Cat again. You curse, inconsolable, as the teenager continues to glare.
  * The ocean vanishes. The mayor of Beach City weeps for its loss, mourning the transiency of all things as he trails a garden hose along the dry desert wasteland in a futile effort to restore the town to its former glory.
  * A pale, silent child on the corner neither speaks nor blinks. He only hums, and the universe responds accordingly to the aura of quiet menace radiating from his tiny frame and the screwdriver in his hand as he dismantles the boardwalk. You shudder and hope he never discovers power tools.
  * A disembodied head rises from a truck, tunelessly blaring "May-yor Dew-ey, May-or Dew-ey" over the loudspeaker as it endlessly roams the boardwalk. You fall to your knees as it passes, clutching your ears and begging for it to stop. it does not stop. No one else on the boardwalk appears to hear it.
  * No matter how much you "shake a leg" in Meat Beat Mania, you always seem to be at Level 24. You level up. Level 24 continues. There is no beginning and no end, only Level 24 forever. 
  * The ocean returns for no obvious reason but you have no way of knowing whether it's truly the same ocean as before. It _looks_ like the ocean you know, and it _smells_ like the ocean you know, and it even has the same tiny iridescent crabs as the ocean you know, but there's something... different about it, even if you can't put your finger on it.
  * A boy with a straw hat sells human-shaped watermelons from a makeshift stand for five dollars. You know he's a farmer because he has a sign and a straw hat. He and the watermelons are identical save for the hat. When the watermelons rise up and march under their own power, the boy rushes to collect them, tossing five dollar bills at random as he shepherds his spontaneously sentient harvest back into the countryside. There is a story here and you are glad you do not know it.
  * There are strange lights in the sky. There are strange lights in the water. There are strange lights everywhere. "Without the lights, we would be nothing," says every resident you ask. The lights are there whether you ask about them or not, but you stop asking anyway.
  * The secret menu at the fry place consists of one word: "the-bits". "What are 'the-bits'?" you ask, spraying crumbs from your mouth. No one at the fry place knows, but they're compelled to offer them to anyone who asks without question. You have so many questions. "We don't have answers here. Only the-bits," they tell you.
  * A woman - no, a man - no, a being of indeterminate gender - dances at the center of the rave, an experience unto themselves. You want to dance but are afraid that if you join them, you, too, will never be able to stop.
  * There is a man living in a van outside the carwash wearing a sweater covered with stylized cherries. "Nice sweater," you exclaim as you pass. "I know, right?" he says, smiling with quiet menace. "Who doesn't like cherries?"
  * A pink lion walks along the beach in defiance of official city regulations that require all animals to be leashed in public spaces. You look again, and the lion is gone. Was it really walking on water? Is it responsible for for the proliferation of Lion Lickers? 
  * A giant green hand floats in the sky, pointing its finger directly at you. No matter how you run and cower, there is no escape. You know what you did, and it does, too.
  * The power goes out. Wolves howl in the distance. The pale silent child ominously brandishes a baseball bat. You realize Ronaldo Fryman's rantings were right all along and the veneer of civilization is perilously thin. The end is near.
  * Any campaign to keep Beach City weird is futile. Beach City has always been weird. Beach City will always be weird. Beach City is eternally weird.




End file.
